


I started giving you pieces of the oceans that kept us apart

by Two_Divided_by_Zero



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Fixed the broken formatting sorry..., M/M, Pining, Spoilers for early palaces and the end of Yusuke's social link, This is what happens when I get challenged to write angst, happy ending though I promise, just two broken boys in love, only PARTIALLY written on a cell phone, the challenge was angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 05:19:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11247117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_Divided_by_Zero/pseuds/Two_Divided_by_Zero
Summary: “You know, life fractures us all into little pieces. It harms us, but it's how we glue those fractures back together that make us stronger.”Akira is trying to glue the tiny pieces of his messed up life back together when along came a beautiful boy with just as many cracks as him.





	I started giving you pieces of the oceans that kept us apart

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the quote 
> 
> “I have always wanted to give you the world, so I started giving you pieces of the oceans that kept us apart.”  
> ― Karen Quan, Write like no one is reading
> 
> I was asked to write a prompt with two broken people learning to support each other and... ta dah?
> 
> Unbeta'd as usual and unproofread outside Googledocs. I apologize for any weird formatting or spelling mistakes....
> 
> To my original requester, you were curious and this is what you got! :'D It even hurt me to write

After being arrested for a crime...a crime....

(He had tried to _save_ a woman who he thought might get _raped_ and all he could do was stick his scrawny elbow in _and realistically who would that really have saved_?)

After...being sent to Sojiro for…

Life changed for Akira. Well, obviously life changed.

He was ripped away from a family that loved him in their own way, a town where he had his hangouts where they recognized him, his frie-

And he was transplanted to a place where he was _hated_ before he even introduced himself.

(“That Sojiro, taking in that problem boy. Well, trouble birds do flock together!” “Oh, careful he doesn't hear you! You've seen the news; children can be terrifying!”)

Children can be terrifying, huh?

Akira was slowly discovering adults could be rather terrifying, too.

It started with tiny, niggling thoughts, maggots burrowing into his head. ‘Are they watching me? Was that wrong?’ He slipped and spilled his change on the counter at the convenience store, causing the cashier to tut in disapproval before plastering a fake smile on. ‘ Oh…’

Soon, the maggots spread. People weren't just watching (which was terrifying enough), _they were waiting_. Waiting for him to do something - ANYTHING - so they could shake their heads and sigh to themselves, “oh those delinquents, they really have no place in society, do they?”

In his dusty, dingy attic corner, Akira would sometimes talk out loud to himself. Realistically, _logically_ -rationally - this all encompassing hatred...it wasn't there. It's impossible, he'd assure himself and for those brief moments he'd believe it.

But then he'd walk down the staircase into LeBlanc and _feel_ every single set of eyes land on him and he'd just...just…

“Eat your breakfast before you're late for school.”

Eat and prolong the amount of time-

Akira sat down dutifully, thanked Sojiro for his food and shoveled it down his throat just fast enough so he wouldn't vomit it back up.

(That elderly couple, regulars no doubt, he could hear them chuckle and _god he might just vomit anyways-_

Plate now clean, Akira complemented Sojiro for his delicious cooking before fairly sprinting out the door.

In the sea of Shujin uniforms, _rationally_ (that word again), Akira knew they weren't all watching him, talking about him - **they didn't even know him**!

That day, under what felt like the the entire world's watchful eyes, Akira met Ryuji.

\---

The second he heard Arsène speak within his mind, Akira felt as though…

_He’d been through a metamorphosis._

‘Let them look,’ Arsène cooed from within the cockles of his mind, “let them see the person you really are.”

The person he really was?

The person he really was...was _invincible_.

Chains rattling at his feet, all those whispering voices and fears were mercifully quiet. All he heard was the thrumming of blood through his veins, the whistle of wind in their jail cell. He could hear Ryuji’s panicked hyperventilation, the clink of armor, that **vulgar** man screaming _like a bitch_ for “guards! Guards!”

‘Can you smell that?’ again, Arsène murmured, ‘that heavy odor. They _fear_ you. Tell me, how does that make you feel?’

Kamoshida cried, the guards scrambled and trembled in their armor clad boots…

_Because of him_.

‘Powerful.’

Wordlessly, Akira’s newfound persona gave what could only be described as a purr in response. ‘Then show them that power. Show them they were right to fear you.’

Dagger drawn and blood still dripping from his face, Akira did just that.

\---

The juxtaposition of being Akira and Joker was something that Akira could not have expected.

As Joker, he was the suave and elegant leader of the phantom thieves. Panther and Skull (and even Mona at times) trusted him implicitly to lead them to victory and so far he had. He felt _confidant_ and even sexy (though regular old Akira would flush to his neck considering himself as such).

Traversing the palaces, shredding through Kamoshida’s superficial defenses (unsurprising, considering what a fragile excuse of a man he was at heart), Joker was strong.

Akira though…

He loved his friends, truly. Love was a strong word, but that is truly what he believed; the thieves shared a bond born through betrayal and blood that could not be broken. Even as Morgana bit into his hand for texting in class, he _loved them with all his being_.

They didn’t help though.

Now, he wasn’t just the delinquent boy; he was the delinquent boy, friend of the violent failure and the easy girl.

The words people said, knowing they must be thinking _even worse_ of them all…

The maggots squirmed and writhed, birthing that constant fear.

And that’s what it was, he decided. Fear. **Anxiety**. That constant, nagging feeling that he was being judged and judged unfairly at that.

Ann, bless her beautiful heart, told him that eventually it would just...stop hurting. “I know what people say about me,” she confessed over a parfait, “and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. ‘Oh look, it’s Kamoshida’s whore.’ ‘I wonder who she spread her legs for to get that modeling gig?’ ‘You know the only thing easier than Takamaki? No? Me neither!’”

She smiled and twirled her spoon around a strawberry, but Akira’s stomach roiled with acid. “How…?”

“I won’t lie and say it was easy…”

She stopped to stab the berry, watching as the juices oozed and dyed her yogurt red. _Blood red_. “At first, I thought it must be my fault. Maybe...maybe there was something I was doing wrong? Maybe I shouldn’t spend so long on my hair, put on make-up…”

Akira never wanted to hug someone as badly as he did then, watching the shine leave her eyes. “Then...came the doubt. I wasn’t strong enough, I couldn’t cope. _I couldn’t stand people looking at me_.”

Even Arsène started at that, fluttering faintly in the back of his heart.

Ann paused then, visibly gathered herself, and plastered on a watery smile. “You know who saved me? Shiho did! ‘Let them look, you’re gorgeous!’ she’d say all the time. It used to drive me crazy! I wanted to smack her!”

Tears trailed down her face then, likely unnoticed by their creator. “She told me...I was strong to ask her for help. Sometimes...everyone needs help at some point. I told her she was throwing her reputation away by saying that and that...that stupid girl,” she sniffled, “she just shrugged and asked if I wanted to hit up the bakery on the way home from school.”

Tears were now beginning to drip into the remains of her whipped cream, causing Ann to give a tiny, wet giggle. “Well damn, that was my favorite part!”

She blushed and swatted at him as he reached across the table with a napkin, blotting her face into an ugly red. Nose running and splotchy-faced, Akira thought she had never looked more beautiful. “Here, let me buy you another.”

“No, no, it’s fine really. I’ve got a shoot coming up and I should probably lay off the sweets anyway…”

In likely the least subtle display Akira had experienced in his life, she made a “subtle” swipe for the last cream covered berry. He gave her a flat look as she, chipmunk cheeks and all, tried to smile innocently.

That moment should have been the tip off that Ann Takamaki, model extraordinaire, would _never cut it as an actress_.

\---

As soon as Fox was born in the metaverse, Joker knew he was done for.

Beautiful, strong… this young man had basically had his entire life thrown in his face as a lie and he still had the strength to _smirk_ when facing down his abuser.

(And oh, that smirk. That smirk did funny things to Joker’s heart. Regent, a current acquisition, cooed in delight at that smirk. It wrapped formlessly around his heart and _squeezed_ so tightly, he briefly wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like.)

Strong, strong, strong…

Joker, Akira, whoever he was…

_Thunderstruck, stupefied, dazed, stunned-_

‘Oh, you silly boy,’ Arsène chuckled.

As all four shadow guards fell to Fox’s attacks, Joker himself nearly swooned to the ground as well.

This...this was….

“Joker, what do we do?!” Mona bounced back and forth on his tiny paws, yowling in distress.

Even Ryuji eyed their newest teammate with trepidation. “C’mon man, save the panic attacks for later. We gotta get pretty boy out of here, now!”

Akira - Joker - nodded. That’s right, they were on a mission; his team depended on him. Spine straight, the leader of the phantom thieves stepped forward and issued their orders.

\---

When Yusuke first suggested seeking inspiration in Mementos, Akira had been all too eager to accept.

Mementos, the collective thoughts of all humans…

As reality rippled around them and Joker felt his familiar cloak form over his shoulder, it was like coming home.

Fox though… “You know, I don’t think I’ll ever quite become accustomed to all this…”

“‘This…?”

In response, he tugged at the tight pants (as though Joker needed further incentive to notice them) and gave his tail a light wag. When his leaded didn’t respond in his desired amount of time, he slowly gesticulated to his whole body. “This?”

“Oh…”

Joker wished he could share his feelings, the freedom he felt in the metaverse. He wasn’t some criminal, some delinquent; he was confident and cunning and not at all like boring old Aki-

“To be honest, I don’t know why I suggested this at all.”

_Wait_. “Why do you say that?”

Fox looked calm, but the frantic twitching of his tail betrayed his nerves. In any other situation, Joker would find it adorably endearing. “For me...art is about passion. I loved it, _lived it_. For a time, if you cut me, I believed even my blood would pool into a work of art.”

This...was sounding eerily familiar. “And now?”

“Now…” he whispered, “I’m not so sure…”

“Goemon...Goemon has taught me so much about myself. My strengths, my weaknesses…”

Arsène filled his heart then, clearly listening. “And?”

“Sometimes, when I spend time with you all, I wish I could just...show you the person I used to be.”

“...”

“I love art!” Fox’s impassioned yell echoed down the tunnels of mementos, “I didn’t feel abused until people pointed it out to me! You know the saying ‘ignorance is bliss’? I never realized before how true it was!”

“...”

“And now...now every day… it’s like a weight sitting on my chest. I want to draw, but art is about feelings and these...feelings… how could I wish them upon other people?”

“Fox.”

“So, this is me, asking you - begging you,” he beseeched, “help me find my love again. I just...I just want to do what I love again and make people help me. Will you?”

This… “Panther-”

Fox shook his head rapidly. “No, it has to be you. A glorious model yes, but a confidant…”

He went silent before taking a deep inhale. “It has to be you, I just know it. You’re...you’ve…”

Even without finishing that sentence, _Akira understood_.

“So please, please help me.”

Against all better judgement (minus his personas, who all seemed to be atwitter in his soul), Joker nodded his assent.

The smile that lit Fox’s face even behind the mask was nothing short of beautific. “Thank you, Joker. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

The began the trudge into Mementos, as heavy feeling still clogging Joker’s chest.

_This was a mistake_ the voices taunted, _you can’t save yourself, what makes you think you can save him_?

What could one broken man do to heal another?

 

\---

_Hope and Desire_ , huh?

There was only so much elbow-rubbing and snobbery Akira could take before he had to escape to the roof of the display hall. For a phantom thief being surrounded by finery left him feeling...uneasy.

_It didn’t help that he could still feel it, like a physical weight, pulling him down. High school boy, riff raff, out of place, lost, trash, doesn’t be-_

“Akira!”

Ahh and like sunshine on a cloudy day, there was Yusuke. Like a portable sun, he seemed to radiate joy and pride and it made Akira want to sink back into the shadows before he could taint such beau-”

Yusuke was not exactly an openly affectionate person. When he threw his arms around Akira, it was surprising enough to send them both toppling to the floor.

(Now they were _both_ dirty and filthy children, unfit for such a place-)

God, Yusuke was beaming so brightly down at him it was like a spotlight. “They loved it! They loved it and I...I can never…!”

No no no, was he _crying_? 

“I can never…” he wept with a smile, “do you remember?”

_Yes_. “No.”

Yusuke dabbed at his eyes lightly, doing little to stymie the steady stream of tears. “Back in Mementos, I asked you to give my back what I love! And this...this…!”

In another stunning display of confidence that Akira did not expect, Yusuke chose that moment to lean down and kiss him. It was entirely too rough, the force mashed Akira’s head into the concrete hard enough cause stars to dance in his vision…

It was a terrible first kiss, awful really…

He still closed his eyes and softened his lips, gently guiding Yusuke into a more proper position.

(Most people claimed to feel butterflies in their tummies when they kissed a person they liked; Akira had Regent squealing and running amok in the sea of his soul. He’d honestly prefer the butterflies…)

When they pulled apart to breathe, more tears from Yusuke’s face dripped onto Akira’s glasses. He felt more than heard the affectionate chuckle as the artist used his sleeve to wipe them away. 

Pink faced, smiling… Akira wished _he_ were a painter just them. He wanted to preserve that expression before…

‘Don’t do this to yourself, boy. Don’t do it-!’

He sat up, put both hands on Yusuke’s shoulders and _pushed_.

“Akira…?”

Oh god, Akira could see the exact moment Yusuke put together what was happening. That soft pink dusting his face before faded to a ghastly white and his face slackened. _Oh no no no, this is not what he wanted_.

(‘You want him, silly child. If anyone knows you, it is me and **you want him** ’)

“No, you can’t.”

“Yusuke…”

“I’m not allowing this.”

Had his face not been streaked with wetness and the beginnings of a flush beginning from the tears, Akira would likely view this situation as...well…

Yusuke was squeezing him in place with surprisingly strong thighs, glaring down at him with a confidence born of hurt. God, it was sexy and he could just _feel_ his personas all clamoring within.

When it became apparent the artist had no intention of continuing, Akira sighed. It was surprisingly easy to lift Yusuke off his lap and get them both back on their feet.

(He could never return back downstairs like this, so grimy, _so filthy_ )

“Yusuke, you know this can’t…” ‘go anywhere’ went unsaid.

Sticking his nose up in the air in a tiny show of sass, Yusuke quipped, “well that just sounds like quitter talk from someone who hasn’t even tried.”

(Stupid, it was so stupid but Akira found even those vestiges of sass to be so _sexy_. Why did he have to make it so difficult?

_Was Yusuke making it difficult, or was he?_ )

“Outside of the phantom thieves, what do we really have in common?”

(Outside of shared mental trauma, a love of stars, the same taste in music, the same _terrible_ sense of humor-)

He shook his head. His stubbornness was usually endearing, but in this case, it was just frustrating. “I fail to find any logic in that statement.”

“Outside the metaverse, there’s nothing…I can’t offer you...”

“That’s - when I'm with you…. it’s like I can _feel_ every color! There's,” he hiccuped wetly, “there's so much… _so much_!”

“I can’t...I can’t be the person you want me to be.”

Yusuke doubled over at that. “I don’t ‘want’ you to be anyone besides yourself! I don’t ‘need’ anyone else either! Just…” he voice petered out, “...I just want you!”

“Yusuke…”

“You think I didn’t know you were struggling with your own demons; I did. I know what it meant, falling in love with a broken man.”

The tears never stopped falling, but Yusuke didn’t give a single sniffle or attempt to wipe them away. 

(Akira was reminded of a saying his mom telling him a quote she read in a book once. “Weeping is not the same thing as crying” she cooed while kissing his skinned knee, “it takes your whole body to weep, and when it's over, you feel like you don't have any bones left to hold you up.)

‘This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object,’ his persona and closest confidant whispered.

_There’s no such thing as an immovable object._

Tear-stained face but still standing proud, Akira didn’t need to hear Arsène’s response of, ‘are you sure?’

Like a snake, the old anxiety slithered up his leg and around his shoulders. _You’re a criminal, you only drag people down, you’ll break his hea-_

No.

Just this once, he was going to be strong. It wouldn’t last forever, but for now…

“You know I have a record? That I’ll never get into a good university, that I have no real marketable talents?”

“And you know that, even if a single word of that were true, I wouldn’t care.”

Stupid, emotional, _beautiful_ boy.

Pardon the language, but fuck it all.

There was only a slight moment when Yusuke gasped in surprise before instantly melting into his embrace. Akira’s shoulder was distinctly wet and likely covered in snot, but for once, the voices could go fuck themselves.

He nuzzled into Yusuke’s neck, kissing the skin there lightly in a promise. He couldn’t promise that there’d ever be a day when the anxiety wouldn’t creep up, or that he’d never make the other boy cry again. 

What he did promise was to try, every single day, to fight those demons back. And as Yusuke cupped his cheek and brought their lips together for another salty kiss, he figured that was really enough for now.

\--- 

“Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone for reading! 
> 
> It likely goes without saying that some of the feelings portrayed were taken from personal experience.
> 
> As the author and this is my temporary universe, I will tell you that they do make it work and DO end up happy. My story, my ending, so there.
> 
> 11 pages though! Readers, you got through 11 pages! Holy cow! Thank you!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are more precious thank you can imagine. Thank you all for even taking the time to read this!
> 
> And... in case you missed it... REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN! IF I HAVEN'T CRUSHED YOUR SOUL WITH THIS ONE YET, FEEL FREE TO DROP A LINE!


End file.
